1. Him. I’d rather be with him than you. Because I don’t hate him. How could I hate him when I’ve never met him? I hate the idea of him and what you did with him. I hate that you f*cked him. I hate that so, so, so much. Because most people can walk into a bar and it’s either the beginning to a bad joke or the beginning to a great story. But not you. When you walk into a bar, it’s not a joke or a story. It’s just you. You walk into a bar and see the bar tender, the bouncer, and him. You walk over to him and start talking. Never do you once mention that you’re in a relationship. You don’t even let it slip that you’re engaged. You just chat away and he smiles and you smile back. Soon, that smile turns into him buying you a drink. And then another one. And another one. But you don’t need to be drunk to know what’s going to happen. You two go to the bar’s bathroom and have a sloppy quickie. When you’re done, you stumble out of the bar and hail a cab. He asks about going to your place. You suddenly remember that I’m there. Sleeping in our bed. But you don’t care, so you say, “Eh, not the best plan. Can we go to yours?” He agrees, and then the two of you trip out of the cab and end up at his place. You don’t waste time with pleasantries and you don’t think about how disappointed your parents would be with you. You just f*ck. You f*cked him, but you screwed me over. In the wise words of Cee Lo Green: f*ck you, and f*ck him, too.